Good Night Moon
by Grav
Summary: A serial kidnapper descends on Las Vegas, and the only leads the team has are in a children's book.
1. Default Chapter

A.N. OK, here we go again. This fic is loosely based around Margaret Wise Brown's "Good Night Moon", which, of course, I do not own. It is a wonderful book that is supposed to make the going to bed ritual something soothing, and calm the child's fear of the dark.  
  
This book terrified me, but I was a pretty weird kid.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: If you've seen it, I don't own it.  
  
Archive: If you really want it, tell me where it's going.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Caught Napping  
  
The soft touch of the night breeze was what woke her. As she slowly became conscious, she thought about how wonderful it was to be wakened by so gentle a touch.  
  
Then she remembered that she had closed all the windows before she went to bed.  
  
She sat up abruptly, suddenly wide awake. Near panic, she got out of bed and left her room. The breeze was stronger here in the hall, and her dread grew as she followed it back towards its source.  
  
The nursery window stood open and the bed was empty.  
  
And the neighbours were awakened not by the wind, but by her screams.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Grissom surveyed the room, eyes picking up all the details, even the ones that weren't obvious. The empty nursery was lit only by the moonlight, gently shining through the open window. Its silvery light cast a glow of serenity over the room, a serenity Grissom did not share.  
  
He felt, rather then heard, Sara arrive and stand beside him. Her sharp brown eyes looked over his shoulder, seeking out details even as his own blue ones did. He knew that Nick would be with her, and that he would exhale in frustration and turn his head away from what he saw. Then, working as a team, they would process the scene with a meticulousness fostered by their supervisor, and practiced on countless depravities. His own hearing was touch and go, but his work, and by association theirs was almost unaffected.  
  
The three scientists entered the nursery, and stood silently in the middle of the room, continuing their survey. Sara suddenly cocked her head to the side. Both Grissom and Nick looked at her curiously.  
  
"Hear that?" she asked.  
  
"Hear what?" Nick replied.  
  
"Exactly." Sara said. "Now I don't hear anything."  
  
The stress she placed on he word 'now' drew Grissom's attention. He followed her gaze across the room where he saw a shelf containing several music boxes. He remembered music boxes; remembered taking them apart so his mother could run her fingers over the pattern of dots that made the music; remembered his frustration at being unable to explain with his hands what he heard with his ears.  
  
"Brahms" He stated, picking a common tune and hoping he was right. "Brahms' Cradle Song."  
  
"Music boxes only play for a few minutes." Nick said. "Whoever started this one must still be pretty close."  
  
"Yeah" said Grissom, signaling for him to go and put Brass on alert, "and we have just been caught napping."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Who are you? Who? Who Are you? Etc. Ok, so it wasn't the brightest of quips, but it was the best I could come up with. Well, what do we think? R&R please. 


	2. Stuck

A.N. Wow. I must say, those are the best reviews I have ever had. I write like an episode? That is so cool! Thank you thank you thank you.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Stuck  
  
"There's something eerie about this." Warrick said from where he knelt close to the bed looking for anything traceable.  
  
Catherine glared at him. "Of course there's something eerie about it. This is the second kidnapping in two days."  
  
"That's not exactly what I meant." Warrick said, his tone slightly defensive. "I meant that these scenes remind me of something."  
  
"What sort of something?" Sara asked from over by the music boxes.  
  
"I think it is something I've read somewhere." Warrick replied, bagging evidence as he spoke. "but not recently. It was a while ago."  
  
Catherine looked around the room. A coating of print powder was dusted over every surface and the room had been gone over with the forensic equivalent of a fine toothed comb.  
  
"Lets get the camera and samples back to the lab. We can compare them to the other case and see if there are any similarities, and see what Nick found outside." She said.  
  
"And what Gris got from the mother." Warrick added.  
  
With one last look around the room and an unvoiced promise to its former occupant, Catherine left the scene and headed back to the lab.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Grissom was starting to hate this case. He had nothing against a challenge, that was what made his job interesting. But this one was beyond challenge. This was frustratingly frightening. While interviewing the distraught mother, he'd noticed a strong sweet smell about her, and realized she'd been drugged with chloroform. The kidnapper knew the business and there was nothing worse than a perp who knew the business.  
  
He entered the layout room and found Catherine poring over the pictures of the two scenes, looking for a commonality to tie them together. He'd been watching her closely, well, only slightly more so than normal, for signs of duress; this was a case involving children after all. But so far Catherine was holding up well.  
  
Either that or she was putting up a very good front, which was a distinct possibility.  
  
She became aware of his scrutiny, and turned around to smile at him. She was about to tell him something when the younger three CSIs entered the room to report their findings.  
  
"No prints." Sara said, her voice and mouth twisted in frustration, "Not the mother's, not the little girl's, nothing."  
  
"I found a hair.' Warrick said. "Greg's got it in the lab."  
  
"At least you found something we can trace." Said Nick, usually an optimist to the core. "There were no footprints, of tire treads, no foreign material, and no prints on the ladder. I sent a soil sample to Greg, but I don't know how useful it'll be."  
  
"The mother was chloroformed." Grissom added his report.  
  
"And the mother of victim number one was sleeping on the other side of the house." Catherine put in, "Provided the two cases are linked."  
  
"I timed the music box. It plays for four minutes and 37 seconds." Sara reported.  
  
"That doesn't give the kidnapper much of a window." Nick observed, "unless he's Roger Bannister."  
  
"I am missing something!" Warrick exclaimed, hitting his fist on the table in frustration.  
  
Grissom looked at him, one eye brow raised and a query in his eyes.  
  
"Warrick thinks he read something somewhere that reminds him of this." Catherine explained.  
  
"At this stage, I'll take anything I can get." Grissom said. He picked up his copy of the case file and walked out the door and towards his office.  
  
The other four exchanged a glance, and headed for the break room seeking the coffee machine, and a clear mind.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Notes: Roger Bannister was the first person to run mile in under four minutes. After Bannister did this 'impossible' thing, several others did it. The record is currently somewhere around three and a half minutes (actually, I have no idea, but that sounds ok.) 


	3. Pattern

A.N. I have no patience that's my problem. I can't sit on this. Which is good for you I guess.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Pattern  
  
There was only a small hint of the characteristic bounce in Greg's step as he entered the break room in search of caffeine. He poured himself a cup, and pulled out a chair at the table. He knew this must be a particularly bad case because no one had pounced on him yet, demanding to know results. He hated that. It meant they didn't want the results. He took Nick's case file and began looking at the pictures.  
  
"The hair belongs to the mother of your first vic." He said, dropping it as gently as he could.  
  
Sara exhaled sharply, "At least we can tie the two cases together."  
  
Greg squinted at the pictures suddenly, trying to see something clearly. He pulled the pictures out of the file and lined them up on the table. Warrick sat forward abruptly, hoping that Greg would see the pattern that was only just eluding him.  
  
"Green room." Muttered Greg, absently reaching for his coffee. "A big green room, and the moon."  
  
Warrick's eyes grew wide as he finally remembered. "Good night room, good night moon." He recited.  
  
"What are you two talking about?" Sara demanded, somewhat exasperatedly.  
  
"It's a book." Greg explained, "A children's book where the kid says good night to everything in the room."  
  
"What does that have to do with the case?" Nick asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.  
  
"Well, the first kid had a green room." Greg pointed out.  
  
"And the moon is almost full." Warrick added.  
  
Catherine still looked skeptical, so Greg kept talking. "All of the lights in victim number one's room were on, except for the night light, which was smashed. That's the next line."  
  
"And the second room had those red balloons in it." Warrick said "And that's in the story too. I bet if we ask the mother, she won't remember ever seeing them before."  
  
"Were there prints on the balloons?" Nick asked  
  
"No, but maybe there's something in the air that'll be useful. We'll have to go back to the scene to get them though." Sara said, her face looked slightly apologetic. "I didn't bring them back because nothing showed up when I dusted."  
  
"You followed protocol Sara." Catherine said drawing everyone's attention back. "Greg, go work on that soil sample. Nick, Sara, go get the balloons and do whatever you can with them. Warrick, see if you can't find a few copies of that book. I'll go talk with Grissom."  
  
The group nodded and split up to take care of their assignments. Catherine made her way down the hallway and into Grissom's office. He was at his desk with his head in his hands. The computer screen was off, the lights were dim, and the singing fish did not announce her presence with his usual rendition of "Take Me To The River". Catherine knew Gil Grissom well enough to realize that he was having a migraine.  
  
She walked over to stand beside him and took his hand. He looked up at her and smiled through the grimace of pain on his face.  
  
"You take anything?" She asked quietly, getting only a nod in response, she kept talking. "We'll get him Gil. Greg found us a pattern. We have leads."  
  
He smiled at her again, and she knew she was speaking in vain. She opened her mouth to take another shot, but was interrupted by the sound of two beepers, ringing in unison.  
  
It was Brass.  
  
There had been another one.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A.N. Well. Are we having fun? Am I as bad at suspense as I think I am? Tell me please, and I'll try to improve. 


	4. Story Hour

A.N. This chapter caused me a lot of grief. Which you will find out about in chapter five. Wah ha ha. Sorry, couldn't resist.  
  
*******  
  
Story Hour  
  
Nick surveyed the nursery again. He knew that they had already gone over the scene as thoroughly as they could, but he wanted to find something, anything, that would help them with this case. He watched Sara lay out the brown paper evidence bags and label them carefully in her even handwriting. She had catalogued so many painful things with that even hand. It never shook while she was writing, only afterwards, if the case went unsolved, and all they could do was watch the sun set on Las Vegas and pray for the best, as they waited in the dark for the daemons to come.  
  
And Nick knew all about the daemons.  
  
Nick crossed the room and held the evidence bags open for Sara as she deposited each balloon. He taped each bag shut, and put it on the floor at his feet.  
  
"Do you think we'll find the kids alive?" Sara asked him quietly.  
  
"I don't know." He replied truthfully. "There's always hope I guess, but realistically. . ." he trailed off.  
  
"What kind of sicko takes children?" Sara asked, looking straight at him.  
  
He swallowed. "The worst kind Sara, the worst kind."  
  
She caught her bottom lip in her teeth, her concern evident on her face. She moved closer to him.  
  
"Are you okay?" She said.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." He replied. "Let's get these back to the lab. Hopefully they'll help us get this guy."  
  
Sara nodded, and the two of them left the crime scene, arms laden with evidence bags. Neither one of them looked back.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The machine never worked as fast as Greg wanted it to. Usually, this only annoyed him because he wanted results quickly to impress those who came to badger him about what he'd figured out. This time, as he sat in his chair willing the printer to produce the wanted results, he had different reasons. Reasons that carried with them desperate energy brought on by the realization that lives would be saved or lost by how quickly Greg was able to make sense of the chemistry behind the crimes. It was not a burden he enjoyed, but he did it because he knew no other way.  
  
He heard the door open behind him, and turned his head to nod hello to Sara and Nick as they entered the lab. Usually, Greg would have given them what they wanted, and then dropped hints about them leaving, but tonight, he didn't want to be alone with the evidence.  
  
"Gris and Catherine got another call." He informed them, "They're out with Brass now."  
  
Nick's face became tight, and Sara's became frustrated. Greg said nothing, because there was nothing to say. Wordlessly, he held out his hands for the balloons, and then prepared to process this new evidence. Sara and Nick talked in the background, something about how there were no prints on the rubber. It was nice not to be in silence. Usually he would have played music, but this case had a solemnity about it that Greg couldn't profane with noise just to calm his nerves.  
  
Pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, he removed each balloon from its bag. He had already prepared bottles for the air in the balloons, and he carefully set about extracting it, and piping the air into the evidence bottles. This finished, he turned his attention to the balloons themselves. He took a pair of scissors and cut the end of off each balloon. He put each one into a carefully prepared solution to extract the DNA that he hoped would be left over on the mouthpieces.  
  
The printer finally began to sing, and the piece of paper it produced was immediately pounced on by Greg.  
  
"Soil has no special features. It's just dirt." He couldn't keep his disappointment out of his voice.  
  
"You'll find something Greg." Sara said by way of encouragement, "You always do."  
  
"We do have a bit of a timeline to follow now." Said Nick. "The first call came at 10:00, and you said that Gris left around 6:00. Our guy works quickly. He only had six hours between attacks." He shuddered at the implications of having two scenes a night until they solved this crime.  
  
The door to the lab opened again, and Warrick came in. He was brought up to speed by Nick and Sara, Greg was having trouble talking. Warrick had brought them all coffee, and once they were settled, he began to read the book that Catherine had sent him out to find. Sara began to work on the bottles of air, Nick taking notes for her, and Greg continued to monitor his DNA work. Warrick's voice reminded Greg of why this was a children's book. The words were so beautifully written, but now they conjured up such terrible pictures in all of their minds.  
  
The door opened for the third time and they all looked up to see who this newest intruder, knowing that it was too early for Grissom and Catherine to be back.  
  
"What is this, story hour?" came the familiar voice of Conrad Ecklie.  
  
"It's for a case." Warrick laconically replied.  
  
"Why are you here so early Ecklie?" Sara asked "Your shift doesn't start for another hour yet."  
  
"Well Miss Sidle, this might surprise you, but you are not the only member of the LVPD with their own private scanner." Ecklie replied "I am looking for Grissom, where is he?"  
  
"Right here Conrad" came a voice from the door way "What can I do for you?"  
  
"I was just coming in to tell you that the press will be all over this one Gil, and I hope you're ready for the politics."  
  
"You came in early to wish me luck Conrad?" Grissom replied, only thinly veiling his sarcasm "I'm truly touched."  
  
Ecklie glowered at him for a moment, and then brushed out the door, nearly running into Catherine, whom he didn't see until he stepped on her foot. Rolling her eyes, she stepped into the lab and listened as Grissom began outlining the latest scene for the other members of her team.  
  
"The babysitter was asleep on the couch downstairs. She babysits regularly for the family, and usually stays the night if they are going to be late, and if they are gone for a few days." Grissom began, "She was woken up, gagged, blind folded and restrained."  
  
"The little boy was upstairs." Catherine took up the story, "His bed was made, there were teddy bears all over the floor, and the rocking chair was overturned."  
  
" 'Good night bears, good night chairs' is the next line." Greg pointed out.  
  
"Who called 911?" asked Nick.  
  
"The babysitter's hands were untied just as the kidnapper left. She made her way to the phone and called the police." Grissom said, "What did you guys find out?"  
  
"The soil is inconclusive." Greg reported "Sara and Nick were working on the air, and I just finished prepping the balloons for extraction."  
  
The printer sang again, and this time it was Sara who pounced on the offered piece of paper.  
  
"Air was mostly carbon dioxide." She started, "But there was a lot more than normal. Also traces of arsenic, ammonia and nicotine."  
  
"Smoker." Concluded Nick.  
  
Catherine eyes widened "The babysitter did say she smelt cigarette smoke."  
  
"It's a start." Said Grissom, "We can't really do anything else until Greg has finished the DNA. Sitting here staring at it won't help anyone. Everyone go home, get some rest, and come back for normal shift time tonight. We won't solve this running on fumes."  
  
They filed out of the lab, and made their way down the hall to their lockers. Greg left last, casting one last look at the DNA that sat, patiently prepping itself. He closed the door behind him.  
  
He did not look back again.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A.N. OK, this is the longest chapter I have ever written, and I liked it. Especially the bit with Greg, but that might just be my personal prejudices talking. 


	5. Reprieve

A.N. This chapter was almost physically painful. Somehow, I backed my way into an N/S corner, and then had to write my way out of it. It was very distressing (N/S people, your story is coming. Don't hold your breath though). Anyway, here's what I ended up with.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Reprieve  
  
She had taken as long as she possibly could in the locker room. She had slowly taken off her lab coat and hung it up. Catherine had left to go and see Lindsay. She had pulled her sweater over her head, and then fixed her hair. Nick had walked out, pulling on his jacket as he went. She had taken her jacket out of her locker and waved good-bye to Warrick as he headed home, and still Grissom hadn't entered the locker room.  
  
Sara threw her coat back into her locker, and set out in search of him. The break room, layout room, and lab were full of day shift, and there was no Grissom about. Finally, she made her way to his office, and found him sitting behind the desk. He didn't look up when she stood in the doorway, but she hadn't expected him to. Sara watched, leaning up against the door post, as he read his computer screen, oblivious to her presence. Feeling slightly awkward, she coughed lightly, and moved her hand to cover her mouth in such a way that she was positive he would see her arm out of the corner of his eye. He looked up, a question in his eyes.  
  
She moved into the office and sat down across from him, deliberately making sure that the computer screen was between her mouth and his eyes. He moved his laptop to another part of his desk. She wasn't positive, but she thought she saw frustration that was unrelated to the case. He was staring at her, waiting for her to speak, and when she didn't, he took the initiative.  
  
"I was brainstorming." He said, waving a hand in the general direction of his displaced computer. "Seeing if the computer could tell me anything."  
  
"You've been doing that a lot lately." She replied, trying not to sound too snarky. "There have been a few cases lately where all you've done is tap away on the computer while the rest of us hit the pavement."  
  
He cocked his head to the side. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on his desk, and her chin in her hands. When he made no reply, she put her hands together in front of her mouth.  
  
"You taught us to observe." She began. "to notice things that were out of place or different. You taught me to read people. I was terrible at it. Well, congratulations Grissom, I've improved. Not only can I tell you're hiding something, I know more or less what it is you're hiding."  
  
She brought her hands down. "Do you have any idea what I just said?"  
  
"You lay an elegant trap Sara." He replied, and then answered her question. "Something about observing people, and hiding things. When did you know?"  
  
"It was a gradual thing." She admitted. "First in the Haviland trial, then in that peeping Tom case, but mostly I put together the pieces. Nick said something after that paragliding case, Brass mentioned something about lips, Catherine and Warrick both have stories. Even Greg has noticed something Grissom. Of course, none of them have heard each other's stories, as far as I know anyway, so I am the only one with a near completed puzzle. The only piece I am missing is yours, but I know what shape it is. You didn't hear the music boxes at all tonight did you? You guessed. You picked a lullabye and guessed. It was The Moonlight Sonata Grissom. Nick just didn't know that."  
  
Grissom took his glasses off and set them down on the desk. He wondered how he could have been so incautious. How could he have let so many things slip? The more he thought about it, he realized that he was foolish to think he could have concealed anything from his team. He had, after all, trained them to observe, and as Sara pointed out, that was all she had to do. He was suddenly so proud of her, he thought he'd burst.  
  
"Otosclerosis Sara. I am going deaf." He found it easier to say than he thought it would be. "My hearing goes in and out like a cheap radio, and I am having surgery on it in a month to save whatever is left."  
  
"We wondered why you had two weeks of vacation booked." Sara said, a hint of a smile on her face. "I checked the web for cockroach races and there weren't any."  
  
"I think you know me to well Sara Sidle." He said.  
  
"I don't really." She replied, smile gone. "That's part of the problem I think."  
  
"Do you remember that coffee bar on the university campus?" he asked suddenly.  
  
"Of course." She said. "Open 24 hours, great coffee, lots of workspace. I practically lived there.'  
  
"I found a café that's almost as good." He told her, and the smile returned. "Sans the overworked students of course. Would you like to go for a coffee before you go home to sleep? We can talk."  
  
The smile that had been hinting around the corners of her mouth stretched across her face in that familiar way he hadn't seen very often of late. He, whose hearing was flawed, heard loudly and clearly as the wall that had grown up between them over the last few months was struck by the first few blows of the ultimate wrecking ball. Standing together, they headed for the locker room, for caffeine, and for a renewed friendship.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A.N. The Moonlight Sonata is by Beethoven, and sounds nothing like "The Cradle Song". No offence Nicky.  
  
That wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. . .was it? R&R and tell me please. 


	6. Blood Shed

A.N. I realized in this chapter that it is incredibly difficult to write Greg when he's being Greg. He speaks in sentence fragments. So does Brass actually, so both of them are a little OOC (ie formal) this chapter.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Bloodshed  
  
He knew why they came back. Though he had more or less ordered them to go home and stay there until shift, he hadn't really expected any of them would. So it was that about two hours before shift was scheduled to start, they began to drift in. Sara was first of course. She arrived only a few minutes after he did, and after a quick hello had disappeared into the break room with a text book on forensic profiling. Catherine had been next. She had nodded at him on her way past his office to the layout room where he presumed she was poring over the photographs hoping for a bolt of lightning. Greg too had soon arrived and taken up his vigil in the DNA lab again, and Nick and Warrick, when they arrived, stopped in on everyone before gravitating the television in the break room to see what the News had to say about the case.  
  
And so they began the type of shift they all hated the most. The type where Grissom waited for his pager to go off, while wishing it never would again; where Sara and Greg waited for the coffee to percolate and every drop that fell from the filter to the pot seemed to take an eternity; where Warrick and Nick tried to lighten everyone's spirits without passing the line of good taste; where Catherine paced the halls. Waiting. It was the type of shift where one felt guilty for talking, but where they couldn't stand the silence. The type of shift where every second of every minute of every hour goes by as a waste of time, and there is nothing they can do about it.  
  
The centre of the universe was located in the DNA lab, and gradually, like any good stellar body will do if given enough time, the team gravitated to join Greg in his vigil there. The printer sang out in the silence of the room, even to Grissom it sounded profanely loud. The sheet that emerged printed in full, and floated gently into the tray, where it remained for several seconds. Greg looked around, as though expecting someone else would want it first, but then got hold of himself and stepped forward to retrieve the results. Sara vacated the chair at the CODIS computer for him, and he typed in the result parameters as he spoke.  
  
"The DNA is good." There was an audible sigh around the room. "I'm just checking it with CODIS now."  
  
A few more minutes passed in that deep silence. Greg's face fell, and they all knew his words before he spoke them.  
  
"No match." Silence again.  
  
"Well, at least we have something for comparison." Nick began but he was interrupted by the musical tones that Grissom had been both dreading and anticipating for hours now. He looked down at his pager.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Under different circumstances, one of the police officers standing behind Jim Brass might have said something about nerds and their science, but Brass knew that no one would say anything tonight. The police had nothing, and if they got something to work with, they wouldn't care who it came from. The stood at various points along the taped perimeter of the scene, fending off the press, and making way for those who had to go inside. Brass hadn't been inside yet, but he'd heard that it wasn't pretty.  
  
Two dark tahoes drove up and the five familiar figures exited their vehicles. An officer held the tape up for them, and they stooped underneath to join Brass on the inside.  
  
"Single mother woke up to the smoke detector." He began his exposition, "Followed it downstairs where she found a small fire in the basement. She called the fire department, and then went upstairs to get her baby and he was gone."  
  
Brass had seen a lot of facial expressions in his time with the LVPD. He hated most the ones that were in front of him now.  
  
"The room was covered in blood guys," He continued heavily. "and the EMTs had to sedate the mother."  
  
The five CSIs trooped into the house, up the stairs and into the nursery. The crib, shelves, and carpet were all blood soaked, and the light of the moon through the window made the colour seem even more menacing. Nick walked over to the crib, picking his way lightly across the floor. He pulled his camera up to his face and took several pictures. Warrick and Catherine were collecting blood samples and Grissom and Sara moved to see what Nick had taken a picture of.  
  
The sheets in the crib had at one point been white, but they, like the rest of the room, were now bloody. The pillow case however, was pristinely white, glowing in the moonlight that was cast upon it. In the centre of the pillow was a pair of red mittens.  
  
"The blood isn't human." Catherine reported, undisguised relief in her voice. "I'll get it back to the lab."  
  
We'll finish here then." Replied Grissom, and the four remaining CSIs set to work.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Greg walked into the break room carrying a folder full of results from his most recent round of blood samples. Five faces looked up to see what he had to say.  
  
"I analyzed all the blood samples that Catherine collected." He began his report. "You were right, it isn't human. It's feline."  
  
"Good night mittens, good night kittens." Warrick quoted.  
  
"Exactly." Greg continued. "Now according to the size of the average cat, I calculate that there were roughly six of them. The interesting part, is that they have matching DNA."  
  
"Same litter." Sara concluded.  
  
"Bingo."  
  
"Warrick, Catherine, why don't you start looking for records from pet stores, animal shelters, vet clinics, anything that might tell us how the kidnapper got the kittens." Grissom said, "Sara and Nick, Mobley says the press is circling outside. I'd like you to talk to them, be diplomatic if you can. I'm going to start correlating the pictures and the evidence and keep the paperwork up to date."  
  
There was a pause in which Catherine shot an accusatory glance at Grissom, only to notice that he was looking at someone else. She followed his gaze across the room to Sara, and saw the younger woman nod. It always unnerved her when Grissom and Sara communicated without words, it made her feel out of the loop. Something was going on here, but before she could say anything, Sara, acting on mute orders from their supervisor, corralled Nick and headed for the door. Catherine and Warrick followed them out.  
  
Grissom sat at the table, briefly aware that he had done it again. He had aroused suspicion, and then not answered any questions. Catherine was irked, he could see that, but Catherine had become more irksome these past few weeks. He hoped that wasn't his fault. He reached for his glasses, pulled them on, and waving to Greg as the lab tech poured himself a coffee, exited for the layout room.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A.N. I have no idea how much blood is inside a cat, nor do I know how much blood it takes to cover a room. Six seemed like a good number at the time. 


	7. Busy Work

A.N. This chapter is mostly for my own sanity. I am at the stage now where the whole thing is going crazy on me, and I am having to nail it down rather firmly. Bear with me, I'll get us back on track.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Busy Work  
  
Sara absently ran her fingers through her hair as she walked down the halls of the lab with Nick. She could never understand how the press could always show up at times like this, it was six o'clock in the morning, and hound them for news. Vegas, she decided, followed none of the normal rules.  
  
"Why do we get stuck with press duty?" Nick asked plaintively.  
  
"Would you rather be on computer duty?" Sara asked sardonically, "Besides, you're the people person. I'm just along for scientific relief."  
  
"As opposed to comic relief?" he replied, sounded more like himself than he had the last few days.  
  
"Naturally." She answered, smiling. "I'm not all that funny."  
  
"Speaking of funny," Nick began, in the tone of voice Greg called the Theory Voice behind his back, "Have you noticed something weird about Grissom lately? More weird than normal I mean."  
  
Sara immediately became guarded, and she knew Nick would notice, but there was really no getting around it.  
  
"Not really" she lied, hoping it would work.  
  
"He's been distant" Nick continued, and she realized it hadn't. "More than normal I mean. And he's been slacking too. Well, not really slacking, but working differently then he normally would. He should be the one I have along for scientific relief, not you. No offence of course, but it is part of his job."  
  
"Maybe he wants me to learn something, or to keep you under control." Sara tried again. Nick stopped and she walked past him. She stopped too and turned to face him, only to find him right in her face.  
  
"You know." It wasn't a question. "You know and you aren't going to tell me."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about Nick." She replied, turning away so he couldn't see her face. She resumed walking down the hall. "Come on Nick. The lion's are waiting."  
  
"Sharpening their claws I bet." He said, catching up with her. He shelved away his questions and suspicions as they opened the doors and prepared to face the reporters together.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Warrick sat at the computer wishing he'd thought to bring a coffee with him. Catherine sat at another console, fingers flying across the keyboard as she looked up the websites of the various pet stores in the Las Vegas and Clark County area. He was looking at the veterinarian clinics and animal shelters. He could tell Catherine was angry about something, and he was pretty sure it wasn't about the case.  
  
"What's up Catherine?" he asked finally.  
  
"Nothing." She replied a bit too quickly, then "Grissom. He's doing it again, and I don't know why."  
  
"Everyone's got secrets Cath." He said, trying to placate her "He doesn't have to tell us everything."  
  
"He's told Sara." She said abruptly.  
  
"So?" he replied. "He can tell whatever he wants to whomever he wants. And he can also not tell. It's his prerogative. You just don't like being out of the loop."  
  
"Damn right I don't." Catherine said. "But he's been doing things so differently lately."  
  
"Maybe he just wants a change of scenery. He's been at this for a while now after all."  
  
"Whatever Warrick, stop trying to mollify me."  
  
Warrick felt a thrill of excitement. The webpage he was on belonged to an animal shelter in Las Vegas, and it had pictures of recent adoptees. One of the photos was of a litter of kittens.  
  
"Well, Greg was wrong." He said.  
  
"What?" Catherine asked, barely concealing her exasperation.  
  
"There are seven kittens." He smiled, and wrote down the address of the shelter. "Let's go tell Grissom."  
  
"He can add it to his layout." Catherine said.  
  
"Catherine, control yourself please." He replied, his characteristic laid back tone making light of the words. "You're killing me."  
  
"I'll try." She said as they walked down the hall. She pulled out her cell and called Brass to tell him where to look for the Animal Shelter. It was almost seven AM, and by the time Brass actually got there, it probably wouldn't be too early. It looked like overtime again, but that was better than waiting at home.  
  
"You'll try what?" Nick's voice came from behind her, and he and Sara joined the walk to the layout room."  
  
"It's a long story." Warrick replied, anxious for a subject change. "How was the press?"  
  
"Voracious" answered Sara.  
  
"Typical." Said Catherine, opening the door of the layout room and holding it for them. They filed in and took seats around the table.  
  
Grissom had laid out all of the pictures in chronological order, Catherine had left them in a bit of a jumble. When his team had settled, he started his analysis, knowing they would jump in when the saw something he missed, or needed clarification.  
  
"Four victims. All between the ages of one and three, all taken from their own home."  
  
"And the only other person present was a single female." Interjected Catherine.  
  
"Right." Grissom nodded and continued, "The kidnapper used a different method of operation on all of them."  
  
"Didn't wake two of them up, chloroformed the babysitter, and set a fire in the basement." Nick summarized.  
  
"We're overlooking something." Said Sara. "That music box ran for just over four and a half minutes. We were in that room within the first two minutes, and Brass had his guys all over the street. It wasn't that dark, and no one saw anything."  
  
"And the fire hadn't been burning very long either." Pointed out Grissom.  
  
"Do you think we're looking for two?" Nick asked.  
  
Catherine's telephone rang, and the rest of the team sat listening to half a conversation, until she hung up.  
  
"That was Brass. I told him about the Animal Shelter lead we had. They keep records of who adopts the animals, and the person who dealt with our kittens volunteered to come in and talk to us." She reported. "He'll be here in an hour."  
  
"What do we do until then?" Asked Warrick, half knowing what his supervisor's answer would be.  
  
"We wait."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A.N. Sorry if that was overly tedious. Every once in a while, I need to regroup at someone else's expense. And, apparently, I have been spelling prerogative wrong my entire life. How have I survived? 


	8. Tough Love

A.N. I'm not sure what's happening to Catherine. I tried not to make her like she's been on the show lately, but somehow I can't escape it. Sorry.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Tough Love  
  
Grissom wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure that the others had drawn straws to see who got to interview their lead from the animal shelter with himself and Brass. He had found the straws in the rubbish bin in the break room when he went to get a refill on his coffee. One of them was shorter, but the lab was stocked with two types of straws, one for cans and one for bottles, so he couldn't be sure. The fact that there were neither cans nor bottles in the recycling, and that the rubbish bin was also full of discarded coffee cups however, lent credence to his initial hypothesis.  
  
He couldn't say he blamed them. The last hour had been torture. The lead lived out of town, which was why it took him so long to get there, and the waiting from last night had burnt through all of the customary diversions. There had been a rather heated debate that even he had heard between Warrick and Nick over some obscure point of baseball trivia. Grissom had not felt compelled to point out that neither of them were correct, as their discussion kept everyone occupied for the better part of fifteen minutes, at which point they had embarked on an internet search and found their answer. Whoever got to do the interview would be spared that much more waiting.  
  
So it was that Warrick joined him in the interview room, which they conducted in Brass' office for sake of appearances. Catherine had wanted to use the interrogation room so those with longer straws could eavesdrop, but Nick had pointed out that this guy had done nothing wrong and was volunteering to help them. She wasn't happy, but she conceded.  
  
The man that waited for them in a chair across from Brass' desk was a young, polished looking man who was well dressed and had excellent posture, despite his height. Grissom wasn't positive, because the man was sitting down, but he thought that their informant was somewhere in the vicinity of six and a half feet tall. When he stood to shake their hands and introduce himself, Grissom realized he had been close in his guess.  
  
"Thank you for coming in Mr. Anderson." Grissom began.  
  
"Call me Alex" he replied smiling, "My job isn't exactly formal. I usually only get 'Mr. Anderson' from banks and telemarketers."  
  
"All right then Alex," Grissom continued, smiling at the young man's attitude, "What can you tell us about the kittens and the person who adopted them?"  
  
"Well we always keep records of who gets to adopt our animals." Alex began. "It is fairly unusual for someone to adopt more than two cats, but the young woman who adopted these ones lived outside of town, and had both a big house and a fair sized property. She even took me to the house and showed me the preparations she'd made. It was like she was adopting a human child. Those kittens were going to be spoiled rotten."  
  
"Do you know what her name was?" Warrick asked.  
  
"Yeah." Alex replied digging into his pocket. "Sophie Ellis. It's on this sheet along with her phone number and address."  
  
"Thank you Alex." Brass commended him.  
  
"Hey, I want to find out who did this." Alex said. "Even if whoever killed the kittens hadn't kidnapped those kids. I rescued those kittens myself, and I adopted one of them."  
  
"You've been a great help Alex." Grissom said, rising to shake the young man's hand again.  
  
"No problem Mr. Grissom."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Catherine, Sara and Nick drove out to Sophie Ellis' house. It had taken roughly five minutes for Nick to resume his questioning of Sara, and with Catherine along for the ride, Sara was seriously outnumbered. Luckily for Grissom, she was in the back seat, and could avoid eye contact with her interrogators.  
  
"Come on Sara," wheedled Nick "We all know something's up, just tell us already."  
  
"I can't Nick." Sara said for the umpteenth time.  
  
"Did he ask you not to?" Catherine said, making no attempt to conceal the innuendo in her voice.  
  
"No he didn't." Sara replied refusing to rise to the bait "It's common courtesy."  
  
"You've picked a convenient time to worry about common courtesy Sara." Catherine replied. Sara made no answer, but her silence spoke volumes, and it was several minutes before Nick was able to think of a way to change the subject.  
  
They finally arrived at the house, and all of them were struck by its opulence. It was more of a manor than a house, of the type that one expected to find on an old southern plantation, not in the middle of the Nevadan desert. It was of standard architecture, rectangular in shape with five windows across the second story and two windows on either side of the double doors on the first. The stonework around the eaves and on either side of the doors was well crafted, and the bricks themselves shone in the desert sun. Brass and one of his officers who had followed them, got out of their squad car, but did not follow them up the steps.  
  
"It's like coming home." Said Nick, "Except we're three states over and this house was obviously built after air conditioning was invented."  
  
Sara rang the bell. The door was answered by a small woman with dark hair, pale skin and bright green eyes. The overall effect was rather unexpected, but striking and memorable.  
  
"Sophie Ellis?" Catherine queried, and then continued when the woman nodded, "We're from the Las Vegas crime lab, may we come in and ask you a few questions?"  
  
"Of course." Sophie replied in a light voice. She held the door for them and then guided them into the sitting room.  
  
"My name is Catherine Willows, this is Sara Sidle and Nick Stokes." Sophie nodded again as Catherine made the standard introductions. "We were wondering if we could talk to you about your cats."  
  
Sophie's eyes did not become less bright, but something changed in them. All three CSIs noticed, but none new what it was.  
  
"Come with me." Sophie's voice had altered too. She led them to another room as she continued to speak. "I don't let them into the sitting room, some of that furniture belonged to my grandmother. We had a talk and agreed that they could go anywhere else in the house, but they have to stay out of the sitting room."  
  
Sara raised an eyebrow, but Catherine smiled tolerantly. Sophie opened another door, and held it open for them to see.  
  
"There, aren't they beautiful?"  
  
Nick's jaw dropped, Sara's second eyebrow followed the first, and Catherine was at a loss for words. Inside the room were seven bowls for food, and seven filled with water, seven toys, seven pillows, and in the middle of the floor, one tiny cat.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Sophie, this is my supervisor Gil Grissom. He and I would like to ask you some questions all right?" Catherine asked the unruffled woman who sat across from her in the interrogation room.  
  
"Anything Ms. Willows." Was the calm reply.  
  
"How long have you had your kittens Sophie?" Grissom asked gently.  
  
"For about a month." Was the placid reply. "My brother said I should have some company, and he suggested that I adopt some kittens. I didn't know if I wanted seven, but he thought I could handle it. He's much smarter than I am."  
  
"When did you last see your brother Sophie?" Catherine asked  
  
"Yesterday." She answered without missing a beat. "He said he had work to do, and that he had been busy lately, but he always comes to see me. Isn't that nice?"  
  
"Yes." Said Catherine weakly. "Sophie, we're looking for your brother. Do you know where he is?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Do you know what DNA is Sophie?" Grissom asked.  
  
"Sort of." Said Sophie, "It's kind of like super finger prints right?"  
  
"Close enough." Grissom said tolerantly. "Would you mind if we took a sample of you DNA?"  
  
"Will it hurt?" asked Sophie in a timid voice.  
  
"Not a bit." Replied Catherine standing up and walking around the table. "If you would just open your mouth for me."  
  
While Catherine was taking the sample, Grissom left the room and went to talk with the psychiatrist who had been observing with Warrick.  
  
"Based on what I have seen and what Stokes and Sidle told me over the phone, I would say she is under some sort of hypnotic influence." The doctor reported.  
  
"Is that even possible?" Grissom asked incredulously  
  
"I'd like to talk with her myself before I bet the farm on it, but that's my primary."  
  
Catherine and Sophie came out into the hallway.  
  
"Sophie, would you come with me please?" asked the psychiatrist in a gentle tone. Sophie shot a look at Catherine who nodded encouragingly, and then followed the doctor away down the hall.  
  
"I'll run this to Greg, and have him put a rush on it." Said Catherine.  
  
"Are Sara and Nick still at the house?" asked Grissom  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I think I might ask them to bring back a family picture if they see one lying about."  
  
"Is that in the warrant?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"All right then." Said Catherine. "I'll go talk to Greg."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The smell was stronger on this side of the room. Sara pulled the lid off of the laundry hamper and had to restrain herself from crowing out loud. She settled for calling out to Nick, who was in the next room, to come and have a look.  
  
"What've you got?" he asked upon entering.  
  
"I noticed the smell of smoke in this room, so I followed it to the laundry hamper." She replied. "These clothes smell like smoke, and the cuff of the sleeve is just the tiniest bit singed."  
  
Nick had joined her beside the hamper, and when she pulled out the garments to bag them, he whistled through his teeth.  
  
"What?" she asked turning back quickly.  
  
"You hit pay dirt Sara." He replied cryptically, but she understood when he pulled out a pair of jeans that had dirty knees."  
  
"If this matches the soil sample," Sara began but was cut off by her pager. "It's Gris. He wants us to bring him a family picture."  
  
The two of them quickly finished bagging the evidence and Sara took one of the photographs off the shelf as she left. Anxious to get results on what they had found and find out what the others had learned, they left the scene and headed back to the lab.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A.N. Whew! That's got to be some sort of record. I had fun. Did you? 


	9. Skipping Lines

A.N. In which Kate gets caught up in time line discrepancies, exhibits how little she knows about fire arms, and flirts with scientific impossibility. I did look up the bit about the brain though.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Skipping Lines  
  
It had been another long day. Dr. Albert had spent hours with Sophie Ellis, but was no closer to a break through. Grissom had made his team go home soon after Sara and Nick had returned to the lab, arguing that they hadn't slept in a while, and there was nothing they could do at work. They had grumbled, but they had gone, and when they returned around 4:00pm, they all looking infinitely more healthy.  
  
They gathered in the lab again. There would have been more space in the layout room, but Grissom knew his team wanted to be close to where the analysis would come from. Greg had the soil sample from Sophie's clothes in the mass spectroscoper and her DNA was ready to be processed. When Greg had finished setting up the various machines and turned back toward the rest of them, Grissom began to talk.  
  
"Sophie Ellis is under some sort of hypnosis." He saw Sara's eyes flash, but continued without acknowledging her. "Dr. Albert is working with her now."  
  
"Those clothes that we found at Sophie's house." Said Sara "They don't smell like cigarette smoke, more like the house fire at the fourth kidnapping."  
  
"That places Sophie at two of the crime scenes, if the soil matched that is." Warrick pointed out. "Do you think she did it?"  
  
"No." said Catherine quickly, "But I think she might have been involved somehow."  
  
"Against her will?" Greg injected.  
  
"With an altered will." Grissom corrected.  
  
"Is that even scientifically possible?" Sara asked.  
  
"Ask me again when we've solved the case." Grissom said, a hint of a smile on his lips.  
  
The printer produced the first page of results, which were immediately pounced on by Greg.  
  
"Soil sample is a match." He announced, regaining some of his enthusiasm. "Sophie Ellis was at that house."  
  
A page came out from another printer. Nick, by virtue of his proximity, and the fact that Greg would have had to either wade through Warrick and Sara or jump the table, picked up the sheet.  
  
"Eight markers in common. We're looking for her brother."  
  
A cell phone rang. Technically, they were on over time. No new case would come to them. The phone rang again, and Grissom reached slowly into his pocket. It was broad daylight. Was the kidnapper so cocky he would strike during the day? The phone rang for a third time, and Grissom finally answered it. The conversation was short, and he hung up after only a few sentences.  
  
"Greg, would you take the picture Nick and Sara brought in to O'Brien and tell him to take care of publicity? The rest of you, we've got another scene."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
There was an ambulance parked outside the house, but the EMTs were in plain sight at the back of their vehicle. Clearly, there was no need for medical attention. Brass, flanked by his officers, was waiting for them at the tape, which he held up for them.  
  
"This one's different." He announced, looking tired and vastly unhappy. "The house belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Ostin. They were away for their fifth anniversary and got home just before 3:30 this afternoon. They had left their daughter here with her grandmother. Call went to Days first because they thought it was a murder, but when they saw the girl's room, they called you. Day guy is inside ready to report to you, and the coroner is inside too."  
  
Feeling heavy, they entered the house, passing by the living room where the distraught couple was sitting. At a nod from Grissom, Catherine diverted course to talk with them, and the others walked up the stairs. Paris, from Days waited for them at the top.  
  
"Mr. Grissom, guys, Sara." He nodded. "The 911 call came at 3:35pm, made by the husband. He said that his mother was dead and then all the dispatcher could hear was the wife in the background. If they didn't have caller ID, the paramedics wouldn't have known where to come. As soon as I saw the body, I called Brass to tell him I needed you. EMTs pronounced at 3:55pm and David is waiting for you."  
  
"Thanks Paris." Grissom said, startling Nick, who obviously hadn't expected him to know the day-shifter's name. "You can go back to the lab. We'll take it from here."  
  
Paris went down the stairs, and the team followed Grissom into the girl's room. The window was open, and a breeze was blowing lightly into the room. Sitting slouched in the rocking chair was the figure of the grandmother, her gentle face marred by the gaping bullet hole in her forehead. David turned to face them, and began his report.  
  
"Liver temp suggests that time of death was around noon, but we'll know for sure after the autopsy. Lack of blood suggests that she was shot somewhere else, and then placed her afterwards. I'd say from the appearance of the entrance wound she was shot at very close range, point blank most likely."  
  
"You can take her, have Dr. Robbins wait to do the autopsy until one of us gets there." Grissom said heavily, as the other three moved to examine the room. "Thanks David."  
  
The younger coroner nodded, and called for his team and a gurney. Nick was over by the dresser, and he noticed a bowl full of something on it. He leaned over to smell it.  
  
"Porridge." He announced. "It's cold."  
  
"Good night nobody, Good night mush. And good night to the old lady whispering hush." Warrick recited bitterly. "He's skipping lines Grissom."  
  
"Maybe he has to." Pointed out Sara, "We took his accomplice."  
  
"That might be what the nobody part is about." Grissom speculated. "He's telling us that he doesn't need help."  
  
"Or that when he doesn't have help people die." Nick added.  
  
"Maybe so." Grissom conceded, "let's get this processed and back to the lab. I don't want to keep Dr. Robbins waiting too long."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Grissom entered the autopsy bay just as Dr. Robbins was in the final stages of extracting the bullet. Looking slightly guilty, he put the projectile in a petrie dish and handed it to David.  
  
"Sorry Gil." Robbins said, "I couldn't help it."  
  
Grissom nodded understandingly as he pulled on his rubber gloves. The two men began their inspection of the body. David stood waiting, petrie dish in hand, for a full ten seconds, and then made for the door.  
  
"I'll just take this to ballistics." He said, not really expecting an answer. He didn't get one. Rolling his eyes, he headed out the door and down the hallway, where he was intercepted by Sara. "If you're looking for Grissom, don't bother. He's playing with Dr. Robbins and nothing short of a nuclear explosion is going to get them away from that body."  
  
"Once a coroner always a coroner." Sara said smiling tolerantly.  
  
"God help me." David replied, smiling too.  
  
"There are worse fates." Sara pointed out.  
  
"Name one."  
  
Sara didn't answer. David decided it was probably better that way.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Well, it's definitely a nine millimetre." Bobby stated from the depths of his microscope. "But that's about all I can tell you without the gun. These are generic bullets."  
  
"Thanks man." Said Nick who had joined Sara in the ballistics lab.  
  
"Wait a minute." Said Bobby, fiddling with the dials, "There's something on this bullet, some sort of fibre."  
  
"That would make sense." Sara postulated, "Warrick found a bloody towel in the rubbish bin. Maybe he wrapped the gun to muffle the noise."  
  
"It was daytime." Nick reminded her, before turning back to the ballistics tech. "Can you get us a sample?"  
  
"Of course." Said Bobby reaching for a pair of tweezers and a test tube. "Here you go."  
  
Sara took the tube, and she and Nick headed out the door to Warrick in trace.  
  
"If this matches Warrick's towel, where's the rest of the blood in the house?" Nick asked.  
  
"Who knows?" Sara replied. "Maybe she didn't bleed very much, or maybe he's playing with us and took the other towels."  
  
They entered the lab where Warrick was working, and handed him the sample.  
  
"From the bullet." Nick said laconically, "For comparison."  
  
Warrick nodded, and held out a hand for the tube. Grissom entered the lab followed immediately by Catherine. Grissom held the autopsy report in his hand, and was instantly the centre of attention, though Warrick continued to work.  
  
"Anna Ostin, 73 years old, COD was a single gun shot wound to the head, probably shot from point blank range. Bullet entered the frontal lobe, and lodged just in front of the corpus collosum. Death was immediate." Grissom read off the report in an emotionless tone that they all knew was a cover for his remorse, whether he would admit it or not.  
  
"Fibres from the towel match what Bobby found on the gun." Warrick announced, "From the microscope analysis anyway. Do you want a spec?"  
  
"Only if we get desperate." Grissom replied. "The match should be good enough for now."  
  
Grissom's cell phone rang, and everyone got a panicked look on his or her face. Grissom opened his phone.  
  
"Grissom---Hello Dr. Albert." A sigh of relief ran around the room. "She's what?---Of course. We'll be right there." He hung up. "Catherine, Nick, you're with me. Dr. Albert has made some progress with Sophie."  
  
Leaving Sara and Warrick, they exited the lab, hoping at last that they would get a solid lead on their quarry, and put this case to rest.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A.N. This was the chapter that wouldn't end. It was also the chapter where I stretched the case so I could include all my favourite techs (except Archie, I can only do so much). Did you notice? Did you mind? Review and tell me. 


	10. Breaking Point

A.N. It's amazing how the simplest choices I made all those words ago came back to be so convenient. It was unintentional. This was supposed to be a cut and dried kidnapping case. Somewhere between there and here, something happened, and this story is the result. Leanne, you've been great. Mich, Anya, thanks.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Breaking Point  
  
They heard her long before they reached her room. Her cries rang down the hall, along which walked Dr. Albert, his face harried.  
  
"I'm sorry Gil." he said. "She was fine when I called you. We had gotten to the point where she could talk about her cats without going into that semi-trance. I called you. Then, I mentioned the book you told me about, and I could almost hear her mind snap out of it."  
  
"That's when the crying started?" asked Catherine.  
  
"Yes." said the doctor. "I have no idea why. We had to restrain her. She was very upset."  
  
"If her memory is back, that makes sense." Grissom pointed out.  
  
"Why don't you let me go in first?" Catherine suggested. "She's comfortable with me. You and Nick should be able to hear from the hallway."  
  
Grissom knew what she had said, but only because she had looked at him when she said it. Usually, his hearing faded in and out, but this time it had been a sharp cut off, between one cry and the next. If he wasn't in the room, no matter how loudly Sophie screamed, he wouldn't hear her. He saw Nick nod out of the corner of his eye, and knew he had to think of something fast, but nothing came. So he nodded, and Catherine entered the room alone.  
  
Grissom motioned Nick over. "Will you be all right here?" The younger man nodded. "All right, I'm going to go back to the lab, and help Sara and Warrick. Call me when you get something."  
  
Nick protested that Sara and Warrick hardly needed help spinning their wheels in the lab. When that got no response, he called out that Grissom would have to tell them some day, but that too went unacknowledged. Shaking his head, Nick turned back to his surveillance.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Sophie Ellis was crying. She called out insensibly to her mother, and pulled against the restraints that held her to the bed. Catherine was taken aback by the severity of her condition. The woman on the bed bore little resemblance to the one she had spoken with earlier. Catherine made her way to the side of the bed, mindful of the splaying limbs, and grabbed on to Sophie's hand.  
  
"Sophie?" she called out. "It's Catherine, Sophie, from the Crime lab. I need to talk to you."  
  
There was no response, so Catherine tried another tack.  
  
"Sophie? Sophie what's wrong? What's the matter."  
  
"I did it!" she screamed, and Catherine jumped back. "I helped him. I held them still, I tied them up, I set it on fire, I buried the gun."  
  
"Calm down Sophie." she said vainly, "You'll be ok. It wasn't your fault."  
  
"Yes it was." Sophie screamed and jerked at the restraints.  
  
"We need your help Sophie." said Catherine, as calmly as she could under the circumstances, "Where is he? Where is your brother."  
  
Sophie began to laugh. It was a chilling sound without the slightest trace of humour in it.  
  
"My brother is gone." she told them. "My dear Colin is gone. Do you think he would stay after what he had done? No Ms Willows, my brother is a genius. Surely you must have realized that by now."  
  
"Where Sophie?" Catherine insisted.  
  
"I don't know." she said. "There will be another town and another full moon, and more disappearances. He has almost twenty days to watch them, to learn all about their routines, and then, when the time is right, he'll strike."  
  
Catherine recoiled from the bed, letting fall Sophie's hand.  
  
"Colin is a monster Catherine." Sophie said, her voice dead, "And so am I."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Catherine was shaken when she left the room, only able to look mutely at Nick and tell him with her eyes that they were done. It wasn't until they were halfway back to the lab that she noticed something was amiss.  
  
"Where's Grissom?" she asked.  
  
"The lab." Nick replied dryly. "He left just after you went into the room."  
  
"Why?" she asked sharply.  
  
"That Catherine, is the million dollar question."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Nicholas Stokes, Sara Sidle and Jim Brass stood on the top step of the back porch at the Ellis house. When she had calmed down a little, Sophie had told the doctors where they would find the gun she had buried. It would be, she had said in a chillingly matter of fact tone of voice, in the back yard, in the flower garden she had planted on her brother's command to cover up the freshly tilled soil. Also in the gardens, she reported they would find the five small bodies of Colin's victims.  
  
The gun, a nine millimetre as Bobby had theorized, had already been recovered and sent to him in the lab by one of Brass' officers. Those who remained watched as the forensics team, supervised by the coroner, uncovered the bodies, and removed them from the ground. Something brushed against Grissom's feet, and when he looked down, he saw the remaining kitten circling his ankles. He stooped to pick it up. He could feel it purring, but that was all. Brass was talking, and Grissom turned to look at him, shading his eyes against the setting sun.  
  
"House is empty. The brother's clothes are gone. I can get his picture out, but it isn't likely we'll find him unless he strikes again."  
  
"Oh, he'll strike again." said Catherine. "All we've managed to ensure is that he'll strike alone."  
  
"How is the sister?" Brass asked, hoping for a silver lining in all of this.  
  
"She's. . ."Nick paused, groping for a diplomatic description. "Heartbroken."  
  
Brass looked at him questioningly.  
  
"Her brother used her, and she remembers every single detail." Catherine elaborated. "She's a danger to herself. They'll have to keep her under observation for quite some time."  
  
David walked past, following the last of the bodies. Grissom heard his cell phone ring, and answered it. It was Bobby, telling him that the gun was a match to the bullets, and that the print lab was checking for prints, would they bring something back for comparison. Grissom hung up and sent Warrick and Nick after an item that might have Colin's prints on it.  
  
Sara turned away from the garden, the flowers strewn awry, and watched as the coroner's truck drove away. She walked alone back to the Tahoe, and she heard Catherine talk to Grissom as she walked away, but decided that she didn't want to hear it. She knew how the conversation would go.  
  
"Why did you leave Gil?" Catherine asked. "Why did you leave the hospital."  
  
"You and Nick had things under control." Damn the man, she thought. His explanations would be much easier to contest if he didn't always sound so convincing. "You want more responsibility, I didn't think you'd mind."  
  
"You've been giving me so much responsibility lately, I may as well be the shift supervisor." she said, the familiar snap in her voice. "I don't know what to do with it Grissom. I don't know whether to tell them to call me or to call you. I don't know if I should be the one tying things up. I can't work like this. I need to know one way or another. I can't be caught in the middle."  
  
"Catherine." he began, but she cut him, not in the mood for his explanations.  
  
"I don't want an answer Grissom. Not yet. I want you to think, and to tell me the truth, because I really need to know." She walked off to the car and got in.  
  
Grissom didn't hear anything on the way back to the lab, but he didn't think it had anything to do with his genetic flaws.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
She found him on the roof. It hadn't been much of a search. The others had gone home, to family and friends to remind themselves that at least some of the world was ordered and good. His office was empty, his car in the parking lot, and his soul was aching. She knew that he would be on the roof.  
  
He was close to the edge, looking out across the panorama that was Las Vegas. The lights shone brightly in the little darkness that was left of the night. To the east, the sky was burning red and orange, signifying that, as it always had, the sun would come to wash away the darkness. Except that there were some places the sun could not reach, no matter how brightly it shone. At some point, a person had to take inspiration from the sun and light himself from within. She could tell even without seeing his face, that Grissom was losing his flame.  
  
It had been that flame which had caught her attention so abruptly all those years ago. When he spoke, it was with such enthusiasm for his subject, that she was swept away in it. That spark had never diminished, and rarely wavered in all the time since, until tonight.  
  
He sensed her somehow and turned around. There were tears in his eyes, and running down his cheeks. He looked so old, as old as Catherine had when Eddie died, or as Warrick had after the Phelps case, age that had nothing to do with chronology, only experience. The lines on his face were highlighted by the strange combination of light that surrounded him, part electric, part stellar and part solar.  
  
"What have I done Sara?" he asked, his tone heart broken. "What will I do?"  
  
Her heart ached for him, but she knew what she had to do.  
  
"You have to tell us Grissom." It came out so hard. "You have to tell them."  
  
"How can I work with it? What if I can't work?"  
  
"We'll compensate Grissom." she said, her tone becoming heated. "We'll learn to compensate. We can compensate for Catherine when the children die because we know what it does to her. We can compensate for Warrick when a case hits close to home because we know. They can compensate for me on the battered women's cases because they know. But dammit Grissom, they can't compensate for you if you don't let us."  
  
"I don't want them to." he said quietly, looking away.  
  
"That's beyond you Grissom." she said, tears in her eyes, knowing he could hear her. "You have to. If you don't we won't function and. . ."she cut herself off, but he understood.  
  
"And what happened tonight will happen again." There was a bitterness in his voice that she had never heard before.  
  
"You can still do this Grissom." She told him, believing with all her heart it was true. "You can still put pieces together better than anyone else on this team. We all still have so much to learn from you. You can still sit in on interviews, you can still go to scenes, you just can't be alone."  
  
"I've always been alone."  
  
"That's no longer an option for you Gris." Her voice still sounded of tears, but he wanted to remember it forever. "You have to actually become part of the team you've worked so hard to build."  
  
"A team." he mused. "Teamwork is a beautiful thing." He turned to face her again.  
  
"More than baseball?" she asked, a smile hinting around the corners of her mouth.  
  
"Much more."  
  
Together they faced the sun, as it slowly rose up over the horizon blotting out the last few stars and dimming the artificial lights of the Strip. The lines on his face were still there, but they were fainter now in the pure light of day, and the tears were gone. So were hers.  
  
"Good night stars, good night air." She said.  
  
"Good night noises everywhere." he finished, a hint of fear in his voice. "It doesn't seem so bad anymore."  
  
"Light will do that." She reminded him. "And so will the promise of friendship."  
  
The sun cleared the horizon to the music of the birds of Nevada. Below them, in the city of Las Vegas, a police siren wailed, and neither of them heard it.  
  
By choice.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
~finis~  
  
Closing Notes: Well, what did we think? I know they didn't get him, but I realized about chapter five that they just couldn't. I was going for the "Execution of Catherine Willows" effect rather than the "Paul Millander" one. There won't be another Good Night Moon, I don't think I could live through it again. This was the hardest thing I have ever written.  
  
I'll admit I stole the roof straight from Michmak (God's Eyes I think), and I borrowed her style quite a bit as well. I hope she doesn't mind. Imitation is after all, the highest form of flattery. 


End file.
